


Patrol Group VICTOR-APEX

by postal_ech



Category: Half-Life
Genre: Gen, More tags to be added in the future, Noir-esque, POV Third Person, Roleplay Novelization
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-15 08:35:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14787068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/postal_ech/pseuds/postal_ech
Summary: Crime, Brutality, Resistance and Hopelessness. This is what you'd get out of most places on Earth now-a-days, but City 08 has that special kind of hopelessness running through - one that involves a recruit, his questionable superior, their beuracratic hell of a command structure, and a growing tide of bad luck. Follow the Civil Protection units "Oh-Three" and his superior "Niner-Seven" as they make their rounds through the rain-drenched streets of City 08, the combine-dominated outlands of the sector, and eventually fall into a situation that gets way too out of hand for their liking...





	Patrol Group VICTOR-APEX

**Author's Note:**

> Firstly, for those who've been following me, (If there has been anyone, which I doubt, but hey - can't be entirely pessimistic) Yeah, I've haven't really posted for a bit. Blame finals, work, and general creative burnout caused by the former two, but this doesn't mean I'm abandoning my other projects. I'm trying something out here that may help get these juices flowing.  
> Secondly I wanna thank TheDomDotCom for inspiring this idea in the first place. While the mate had no direct imput going into this, his original Roleplay-inspired story (Something to Fight For) gave me the idea initially, and it eventually formed into what I got going on here right now. So seriously, props to the mate and his stories for the inspiration. Seriously though, go and check out the mate's profile, he's a god damn good writer in my opinion, and definetly deserves some more views. ( https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDomdotCom )  
> Thirdly, for those wondering, I'm still working on the next chapter for the current project I've got going, so while this may be a side-thing for a bit, I'll _TRY_ to update it when I get the chance.  
>  Anyways, I hope you all enjoy!
> 
>    
>  _Also any constructive criticism here is appreciated mates, if you see that something is up, lemme know, and I'll try to improve on it if given the time_  
>  _Plus I uh, have no real idea as to how the gift system works, so if I messed up something here or there mate, lemme know._  
>  _Edit: Yeah, the whole 'For "TheDomdotCom"' thing sitting at the title honestly made no bloody sense. Got rid of it. Sorry mate if you're readin' this bloody thing wondering what the hell is up, AO3 still has me confused as ever when it comes to what's what._

The subtle, distant drone of the Citadel echoed throughout the neon-drenched streets of City 8 as two lone Civil Protection units - APEX-97796 and APEX-77235, respectively - stood guard near the active ration distribution terminal of District 3. Despite the unusual lull in activity beyond the precinct, however, the first unit’s patience wanes and, in an attempt to break off the dull silence forming within their station, he turns to his partner and calmly begins with a simple question.

“You know what I miss about the old days, Oh-Three?” ‘Niner-Seven’ asks, leaning back onto the concrete-brick walls that flanked the terminal on either side.

“What's that, Sir?” APEX-77 ‘Oh-Three’ responds, slightly following his XO’s lead by leaning back in a more awkward form.

“Coffee.”

“Coffee?” ‘Oh-Three’ asks, the word sounding almost completely foreign to him compared to the standard Civil-Protection code-words he was so used to.

“Yes, Coffee. What, you’ve never had it before the War?”

“No sir I haven't.” Oh-Three responds, nodding towards the street that led out towards the city. “I’ve only had the kind the C.W.U provides, nothing more.”

“That’s not coffee, unit. That's just water mixed with food coloring and an artificial stimulant to make you think it's coffee.” Niner-Seven retorts bluntly, pushing himself off the wall. “Real coffee actually puts a pep in your step, and gives you a kick to boot. Not like the shit our superiors give us in our rations.”

“Sir, are you saying you’ve drank an illegal substance?”

“I drank it all the time before the war, unit. Before it was made ‘illegal’ you could actually get it wherever and whenever you want. ”

“I see…” Oh-Three mutters as his final answer. Before he could ask Niner-Seven anything else, the two suddenly quiet down as a lone woman - a woman with flowing brown hair and a noticeably-clouded right eye - limps her way to the terminal. In spite of her being the only citizen out of hundreds in the distribution block to arrive, Niner-Seven approaches her nonchalantly with his datapad at the ready, and initiates the standard-issued identification process.

“Alright, apply here Citizen.” he says to her, his Vocoder barely masking the tedium that seeped in his voice.

“Of course.” The woman responds, clearing her throat for a moment. “It’s Annabelle Clyde, CID #83202.”

Nodding silently, the unit types her information into the datapad, pulling up a detailed profile of her citizenship, ID, business registration and C.W.U identification - the latter of which raises his interests slightly.

“So, mind telling me why you’re the only one here out of the entire DB?” he asks her, barely looking up from his datapad.

“I wouldn't know, Sir.” Annabelle responds with a shrug accompanying her answer. “I have a few people spending their time at my business, but that's all I know.”

“Hmm…” Niner-Seven grunts, looking back at the datapad for a moment. After scrolling through it once more to clarify her credentials, he reluctantly places it back onto his utility belt, and ushers her towards the Ration Distribution Terminal.

“Oh-Three, man the R.D.T and get this citizen her C.W.U branded rations.”

“On it.” The unit responds, quickly moving into the booth that controlled the terminal. As it buzzed and whirred to life, the STL moves himself over to the terminal’s left side and faces the woman as she approached.

“This business of yours, you never mentioned what it was.” He comments, practically giving her a questionable glance under his mask. “What, you work as a medic or something? Shopkeeper? Food Distribution?”

“Isn’t that recorded on my Human Index Record?” She returns, with a hint of skepticism accompanying her question.

“It is, but from experience alone this shit doesn’t give you the full picture. Not unlike what a Citizen can tell you from looks alone.”

“Language, sir.” Oh-Three interjects quietly, to which he’s met with a death glare that’d rival an OTA unit’s own from his superior. Niner-Seven wouldn’t have to wait long for an answer, however, as once she receives her set of rations, the citizen quickly answers his belated question.

“I work a bar in District 2. ‘The Marionette,’ as its called by practically everyone.”

“I see…” The unit mutters, looking down at the datapad once again. “...and you get a lot of business in this ‘Marionette’ of yours?”

“You could say that.” She shoots back casually. “You’d have to make your way over there if you want to just see how much we get.”

“Or you can just tell me and my partner here, and we don’t have to play a game of ‘Mess around with the Civil Protection Unit.”

“Okay, alright, sorry…” She quickly replies, quickly following up with a more satisfactory answer. “It gets its fair share of customers. People go there, get their food and drink, try to forget about their lives for an hour, and head back out to work. It’s the usual amount of business you’d expect to see in and around District 2. Now...while I’d like to stay and chat, I need to get back to it.”

“Yeah yeah, move along Citizen.” Says Niner-Seven, immediately ushering her away once she gathered what she needed.

As silence slowly fell onto the precinct once again, Niner-Seven releases yet another sigh in response to the distinct lack of any activity near their position, save for perhaps the occasional citizen passing through District 1, or a Scanner making its rounds through the desolate streets. After a prolonged state of inactivity, the STL motions for Oh-Three to shut down the Ration Distribution Terminal, and activates his radio.

**< ::Dispatch, this is APEX-97796-STL, we’re dismounting our position at the R.D.T, forming patrol group: VICTOR 4-STU with APEX-77235-03 in DISTRICTS 1 and 2, Over::>**

**< <:DISPATCH Acknowledges patrol command. Airwatch reports no malignant activity within designated districts. Report possible non-citizen activity with discretion.:>>**

**< ::Affirmative, APEX-97 Outbound now, Out.::>**

After deactivating the receiver, he motions Oh-Three to his side, who promptly does so after locking down the Terminal Center. The two move out shortly thereafter, crossing into the residential section of City 8 after receiving their patrol route - which directed them throughout the claustrophobic alleyways of District 2 to the stairwell leading into the Subway and towards the Intake Station, then looping back to District 2 near the warehouse and, surprisingly, The Marionette. With their route plotted out, Niner-Seven takes the lead as both he and Oh-Three move out, taking note of the lack of life within the streets. With this came Oh-Three’s rather hesitant question to a seemingly obvious issue.

“So...you have any idea where everyone is, sir?”

“How the hell should I know, Unit?” Niner-Seven answers, keeping at a steady pace with his partner as they made their way through the grimey corridors that cut through District 2’s seemingly abandoned alleyways.

“Well, you do have more experience with this stuff...Is this normal?”

“Could be. Only been in City 8 for about a week now, and all I can tell you is that command here is as up-tight and strict on regulation as the Capital, yet these Citizens seemingly have better things to do than get their daily set of rations.”

“Is that an issue?” Oh-Three asks

“Of course it isn’t.” Niner-Seven responds casually, motioning towards the streets behind them as he spoke on.  “Chances are either they’re still hiding in their apartments, they’re still going through a work cycle, or they’ve already paid their way to get some extra food distributed by the C.W.U”

“Right, sir.” Oh-Three replies in an affirmative manner. Despite all of this however, the entire district seemed to be strangely devoid of life. On certain occasions there would be perhaps one or two citizens staring at the patrolling officers from their apartments, quickly moving away the moment they made eye-contact. While it was seemingly normal for citizens to behave this way towards the law enforcement, the stillness of the streets only gave way to a subtle sense of paranoia - something that became more apparent with Oh-Three once they reached the stairwell leading to the Subway. While the hum of downtown kept things from being too quiet, it didn’t help the fledgling officer with his growing fit of anxiety as they continued on.

“What’s the deal, Oh-Three? You’re acting like we’re patrolling the Outlands.” Says Niner-Seven, having stopped in front of the unit within seconds of asking.

“Uh...Nothing sir, just a little on edge.” Oh-Three answers, quickly following the STL’s lead. Despite his answer, the veteran remains silent for a moment, almost as if he was processing his answer. It served to further put Oh-Three on edge, knowing how most high-ranking units act within the CCA, especially as those hardened red eye-pieces stared at him for a moment. Almost as if on queue, Niner-Seven lets out a cold chuckle and taps his shoulder in a playful manner.

“Ah don’t be. Citizens are too piss-scared to even mess with us. They know that slipping up once in front of Civil Protection means getting added to the beating quota, you get me?”  
“Uh yes, I do sir. But uh…” Oh-Three pauses for a second, recalling the C.W.U worker back near the Ration Terminal. Before he could present the case though, Niner-Seven continues with his explanation.

“The C.W.U makes sure their members don’t act out of line either, unit. Unlike most Citizens here, their high-priced rations are on the line if they screw up their job. That’s why they try their best to suck up to the CCA here.”

“Well of course, sir, but what about that other woman?” Oh-Three quickly asks. “She seemed a little too casual than what you explained.”

“Not everyone acts the same, unit. You got those special cases, and most units will give them shit for that.” Niner-Seven would respond, quickly motioning to himself. “But this squad doesn’t work that way. You’ll get what I mean here soon.”

“Understood si-”

“And another thing: Enough with the sirs. You sound more like a kissass than an officer, unit.” Niner-Seven quickly adds on, his harsh Vo-coded accent giving his command a subtle edge, and giving Oh-Three enough reason to remain silent afterwards. With that stated, he motions the officer to follow behind as they made their way on their patrol, the streets now falling back into that ever-familiar, constant drone of the Nexus.

Eventually, the two finally reach the end of their patrol at the warehouse, which conveniently sat across where “The Marionette” was located. Slowly Niner-Seven stops in front of the doors leading inside as he and Oh-Three listened to the jolly laughter and old music softly playing within. It was almost directly contrasting the dreary, rain-drenched streets of the city that the two were used to, and Oh-Three could distinctly hear the woman from before, Annabelle, treating her patrons to a few drinks, their laughter echoing within.

“Well well.” Niner-Seven mused. “Sounds like half the city is inside there.” He then scans the surrounding area, taking note of the undeniable difference between the lively interior of the bar and the streets surrounding it. Then, out of seemingly nowhere, he reaches for the door and grabs for the handle, turning it half-way before he was stopped by Oh-Three.

“Si-I mean...Niner-Seven...aren’t we supposed to be patrolling? This isn’t part of the route.”

“Of course it is.” Niner-Seven simply states as he gives Oh-Three another look. “We’re just taking a detour.”

“...Right, but-”

“Oh pull that stun-baton outta your ass, unit. They put too much of that regulation shit in your head during training.” Niner-Seven quickly shoots, practically glaring at Oh-Three once again as he gave a mini-lecture to the fledgeling officer. “As part of this squad, you’re gonna learn how I operate whether you want to or not, and you’re gonna learn to work with it. Now, follow me, and follow my lead.”

Merely seconds after Niner-Seven gave Oh-Three the rundown, he quickly opens the doors leading into the bar and peers inside. The loud and joyful atmosphere within quickly dies down within the CPs’ presence, with the patrons either turning to look at their intimidating new-comers or timidly looking at their drinks. Slowly and surely, Niner-Seven would be the first to enter, with Oh-Three following in suit soon after.

“Don’t forget to shut the door.” The Bartender, Anna, calls out - to which Oh-Three does so quickly. He follows his superior closely, his stun-baton within arms reach as he felt the patrons stare down the both of them. It was obvious that an air of tension had quickly formed in their presence, and surprisingly Niner-Seven seemed calm about all of this, even as he approached the bar where Anna stood. As he leaned on the old wooden counter, she clears her throat and gives the two an affirmative nod.

“Right, well…” she asks, tripping on her words for a moment before switching to a more confident tone of voice. “What can I get for you lads today? We got plenty of drink that the C.W.U can provide, bit of food...stuff I’m sure you boys wouldn’t mind having.”

“Get me and my partner a cup of coffee.” Niner-Seven responds, nudging the unit next to him. “Black, no sugar, no cream, nothing. Get me the actual stuff, nothing that has the UU’s seal of approval.”

“Sir…” Oh-Three mutters, hesitating to retort against the STL.

“Don’t question it, unit.” Niner-Seven commands. “Just take the damn cup when it gets here.”

Eventually, the bartender returns with two old mugs in hand, setting them down in front of the units. While Niner-Seven seemingly took pleasure in taking the hot drink in hand, Oh-Three kept his an arms length away. His noticeable aversion catches his superior’s eye, and eventually he takes his XO’s lead for the second time.

“Quite the amount of business you got here, Miss Clyde.” Niner-Seven states, holding the mug of coffee close. “Practically half the district come around here?”

“Well, yes, mostly.” she responds. “I try my best to provide what I can to anyone that comes in. That’s part of the job.”

“That involves selling them banned substances?”

There was a tense, uncomfortable silence that followed after Niner-Seven’s blatant question, one that seemingly answered itself even as she retorted against the accusation.

“You said you wanted it with no UU-branding, no supplements or artificial additives, no mind-wiping drugs...just a normal cup of coffee. You asked, and I provided.”

“And that’s what I like to hear from you citizens.” Niner-Seven replies, looking around at the surrounding patrons as they remained silent. “You see, I can tell this is the UU-provided shit. If it wasn’t, I’d be able to smell it through this mask, probably wouldn’t taste like watered-down supplements either.” He then nonchalantly turns back to Annabelle, quickly adding on by sliding his mug towards her. “Now...why don’t we get to know each other a little more?”

“What else is there to know?” She responds, her former cheery disposition now mixed with a subtly serious demeanor as she rebuttled his question. “You got all you need on my ID. All I’d be doing is repeating myself, now are you gonna drink up or are you gonna keep sucking the mood out of here?”

“Oh quit being so damn gloomy.” Niner-Seven shoots back, tapping his partner’s shoulder in a semi-jovial manner. “Me and my partner here just want to get a rundown of the place. For example: You get more business than this? And if so, you get any serious cases of Civil Disobedience around here?”

“Actually...you could say we’ve been having one right now.”

The two quickly turn to see a stocky fellow standing across from them with arms crossed, a furrowed brow and a silent stare meeting theirs head on. Freckles lightly dotted his cheeks, with a noticeably light scar edging near the underside of his right cheek, his pale blue eyes and his copper-brown hair barely discernible under the dreary lighting of the bar. His cold gaze, however, barely left the two units as he continued to speak in a low, heavily-accented irish voice.

“Before you arrived, we had a bloke here trying to start something with the bartender. A scrawny little fella...I think he’s still around here now.” He then turns his attention to the man nearest to him, forcefully placing the back of his hand on his chest as if to stop him from moving. While Oh-Three seemed suspicious of both men at first, Niner-Seven immediately rose from his seat, almost a little too excited rather for what was simply an accusation.

“Him? And what exactly did this Citizen do again?” He asks, his Vocoder masking whatever emotion was put behind his response with the ever-familiar cold, professional tone he always had.

“Tried to start a fight, what else?” The Irish citizen responds. “Nearly tried to bash me head in with a bottle, he did. Would’ve actually happened if you two gents didn’t come along.”

“Well well, that’s a serious offence you got going there, citizen...” Niner-Seven states bluntly, his hand moving towards the stunstick clipped to his right hip. “Got anything to say against this?”

“I…” The stranger hesitates, his eyes darting from Niner-Seven’s stunstick, to the SPAS-12 latched onto his back, and then to Oh-Three and the USP Match fitted in his holster. As Niner-Seven took hold of the grip on his stunstick, the stranger violently sprints for the door leading towards the kitchen, tripping forward as he broke free from the Irish man’s hold. Oh-Three quickly sprung into action as soon as the opportunity was presented to him, vaulting over the counter while Niner-Seven moved around to the stranger’s backside. His Pistol was trained on the man’s head as he heard his superior unlatching his shotgun, cocking a shell into the chamber.

**< ::STAY WHERE YOU ARE, GET ON THE GROUND, DO IT NOW!::> **Niner-Seven bellowed, his deep Vocoded voice sending a shockwave of adrenaline through the recruit’s body. That same voice was reason enough for the stranger to quickly give in to the unit's demands, raising his hands in surrender as the two units closed in.

“D-Don’t shoot, don’t shoot! He started it, I swear! I did nothing wrong here!” He yells, his voice trembling with fear, words catching on themselves as he attempted to explain himself. "That bastard's been trying to strong-arm me since I got here, y-you gotta believe me!". To his immediate dismay, however, Niner-Seven seemingly refuses this accusation with a cold glare, training his shotgun onto the man’s head.

**< ::Oh-Three, Secure the 10-103m immediately, lock your position and prosecute!::>** The command came naturally to the unit, just like the countless hours of training that came before it. With a swift motion, he moves in towards the stranger with USP Match raised until he was arm’s length away. What he wasn’t expecting, however, was the citizen quickly charging into him, knocking him back into the counter beside him and sending him tumbling to the floor. Before the stranger had a chance to make it to the door, however, the Irish citizen grabs a hold of his wrist and pulls him back, slamming his fist into the man’s right eye. It sends him straight onto the bar with a loud thud just as Niner-Seven closes the distance onto him, and beforelong the unit has him pinned with one hand gripping his throat. The other hand held an active stunstick at the ready, that same cold gaze once again masking the sinister intent he had in store as he raised it above his head.

**_< ::SUSPECT, Prepare to receive Civil Judgement!::>_ **

“Wait! No! Ple-” What follows next were a series of swift, violent strikes, each one growing more gruesome and violent than the last. The electric buzz of the stunstick only gave the thick hollow noise that emitted with each blow a sickening, grisly emphasis to the STL’s savagery. It wasn’t until the citizen was bloodied, bruised, and thoroughly unconscious that Niner-Seven halts his assault, clumsily slipping the battered baton into its holster with an exasperated fit of exhaustion. Just as he holstered the weapon, he then takes a hold of the man’s collar, dragging him away from the bar with an annoyed grunt.

“Oh-Three! Respond!” The unit yells, looking towards the counter where his squad-mate was. There on the counter, however, sat Oh-Three as he pushed himself up and off of the bar, responding with an exhausted sigh of his own.

“Present and accounted for, sir…” He mutters, vaulting over the counter once again to meet with his superior. As he was accounted for, the two then turn their attention to the now-frightened patrons of The Marionette, alongside the Bartender and the Irish Citizen that sat staring at them amongst others. Just then, Niner-Seven points to the man himself in an aggressive manner.

“I’m not the one for teaching here, but let this be a lesson to any of you that try to break the Civil Code and Conduct. You’ll end up like this _Malignant_ right beside me, if you get lucky that is.” Eventually his attention turns to the Irishman standing next to Anna, his tattooed arms crossed into his chest. “You, Citizen. Give me your name and ID.”

“Conald Denis sir, ID #52912. Lads call me ‘Irish’.” The Irishman, Conald, responds in a matter-of-fact tone of voice.

“Oh-Three, document citizen and reward him with the usual score when we get back to the Nexus.” Niner-Seven orders, to which the other unit answers with a silent confirming nod. Once the STL drags the unconscious troublemaker towards the door, he turns back once again to focus squarely on Annabelle. There was an unsettling silence that soon followed as he, Oh-Three, and the bartender exchanged glances, which eventually breaks the moment he opens the door to the now-drenched streets.

_“_ Well, gotta give this place credit where credit is due. We’ll be keeping in contact Citizen.” As he stepped out into the rain, he gives one last once-over on the bar and its patrons, the rain outside now having turned into a steady downpour since their patrol ended. Then, with an cold, almost half-hearted chuckle, he gives her a single nod.

_“You all have a good night now. Don’t let the rain get to ya.”_


End file.
